by Nissa Leder
But even though I am not in love with her, I still love her. I still care about her. And God, I’ve missed her. We’ve been friends forever.
I know I broke her heart, and I’ve been trying to give her the space she needs to move on. But tonight, I need her. And I know she needs me, too.
I take a deep breath and walk toward the tree. Toward Ava Pierce. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever let go.
9
The wind picks up as I force my feet, one after the other, across the walking path toward our tree. Toward Ava. She leans against the trunk, her head down, and shivers as the breeze whips through the trees, sending the leaves scattering.
She doesn’t see me.
She just stares down at the envelope she’s holding, lost in thought. She rubs her bare arms as if she’s cold. When I’m close enough, I take off my letter jacket and drape it around her shoulders.
She looks down at the jacket, then back up at me, her eyes and cheeks wet from where she’s been crying. She drops her gaze to her feet and scoots over, giving me some room to sit down.
“I hope none of those tears are for me.”
I settle beside her, folding my legs, and stare ahead, everything darker, yet sharper than before. It’s my new bleak world, miles from where it was a few weeks ago. I shake my head and rest it against my knees.
Beside me, Ava straightens and leans away.
“My God, Darien, what are you doing here?”
She’s mad at me, I can tell. I don’t blame her.
“I needed to clear my head,” I say. Then, I gesture toward the letter. “Looks like I’m not the only one with a lot on my mind.”
She laughs without humor. “It’s from Mom.”
“I figured. You going to open it?”
She sighs, stares down at the envelope. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”
She looks at me then. I miss the mischievous sparkle that used to be there. Now, she just looks tired, like her mom’s letter is just one more thing to handle. I swallow back words that won’t help, choking them down to where they twist and writhe, unspoken, in my gut.
She shifts, folding the letter in half, and shoves it into the pocket of her jeans. The scent of patchouli and cinnamon mingles with the damp air, and I lean closer, inhaling the smell of her hair, familiar and inviting. Before I can stop myself, I put my arm around her and pull her toward me. She rests her head against my shoulder and wraps her arms around my waist. Her shoulders shake against my chest, her breaths coming out in jagged sobs.
I feel broken and fragmented, her sadness ripping my guts apart—because her lousy excuse for a mother is playing with her emotions, because as I hold her and let her cry, I’m doing the same thing.
She must realize it, too. She sniffs and pushes me away.
“No, Darien. You don’t get to play the hero anymore.” She wipes her cheeks with her fingertips.
“I’m sorry, Ava. I know I’ve told you already, but I really am. Really and truly so sorry. Everything is so messed up right now, and I saw you here, and I just needed to be close to you.”
“Why? A few days ago, you couldn’t get far enough away.”
“Because you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I miss that. I miss you.”
She looks up at the cloudy sky, the street lamp illuminating her tear-streaked face. I swore when we were ten years old that one day she’d be mine, and until then, I’d fight any jerk who could make her cry. Over the years I must’ve imagined a thousand faces, a thousand guys who would break her heart. I never dreamed I’d be the asshole who deserved to have his nose broken. How’s that for irony?
“So are you dating her? The new girl?”
Rachel.
Her image floods my memory, warmth spreading through me. I can’t help it. I don’t know exactly what’s happening, but it’s a feeling stronger than I’ve ever known. Stronger than the love and friendship I feel for Ava. Stronger than any lust that’s sent my blood rushing in a single direction. Stronger even than my worry for myself, for the agony I feel in losing my whole future in one night.
“Not exactly,” I say. “It’s complicated. Everything is so complicated right now.”
What about Ava? What about the guy I saw her with today? The one with the messy hair and the arrogant smirk. Trouble. I sensed it right away. I want to ask her about him, but I don’t. This is my fault, or, more accurately, fate’s fault. Any mention of the douchebag I saw her with today would just be cheap.
Ava frowns, clenching her jaw. Her eyes flash as she looks me in the eye.
“How long have you been seeing her? Because from where I sit, you gave me some bullshit story about focusing on football and college, and a couple days later, you’re locked on to some goth girl with magenta hair and those pointless lace gloves.”
Oh, God, she thinks I cheated on her. She thinks I dumped her because of Rachel. Which is actually somewhat accurate in my twisted version of reality, but not in the way she thinks.
“I would never betray you like that, Ava,” I say. “I seriously had never seen her before the game on Friday. I really don’t even know her. But me talking to her has zero to do with why I broke things off with you.”
“Right,” Ava says with a bitter laugh. “Football. I just don’t get it, Darien. I never would’ve gotten in your way. I never would’ve expected you to give up any of your dreams for me. I mean, we’re seniors, Darien. I understand the reality. High school isn’t forever, and couples split up, but I thought we were in a good place. I mean, it’s not like I was single-handedly keeping you from getting a scholarship or something.”
Now, it’s my turn to laugh. “Well, football isn’t really something I have to worry about anymore,” I say. “I don’t think there are any college games in my future.”
She sits up then. “Is something wrong? What happened? Whatever is going on with you, you can tell me. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”
I want to tell her everything. I want to lay my head in her lap and spew out the whole God-awful truth. But there are some things I know I can never tell another living soul. Would she even believe me if I did?
“It’s just a problem with my vision,” I say. “Nothing life-threatening or anything. Just something not right.”
She looks into my eyes, cocking her head to the side. “Oh,” she says. “Yeah, they’re a much lighter blue than normal. I thought you got contacts or something. Is it serious?”
Shit. It’s happening. I think of Uriah Donnelly’s creepy, ice-like eyes. Everything he told me, everything I’ve seen—it’s all true. It’s not a bad dream I’m going to wake up from. I won’t play college ball. I won’t be a doctor. I’ll be some plebe forever taking orders from some ancient organization that predetermined the entire course of my life.
“Yeah. It’s serious, but I’ll handle it. Whatever happens, I’ll figure it out.”
I pause for a minute and look at her. God, she’s hot. But more than that, she’s beautiful—inside and out. I gave her some lame-ass excuse, dumped her, and broke her heart, yet she’s staring at me with a concerned expression, worried about me.
Scared for me.
Because despite what a jerk I’ve been, she still cares.
I was so lucky to have her.
I want to tell her. I want to promise her that one day, some great guy is going to come along and be everything I wanted to be but couldn’t. But I clamp my mouth shut, afraid to make things worse.
But still … I wonder what could’ve been between the two of us, how long things would’ve lasted, if this crazy dark inheritance hadn’t rocked my life. For the first time in a long time, I’m overcome by a terrible sense of regret. I need to leave before I do or say something stupid.
The wind catches a piece of her hair. Gently, I tuck it behind her ear, lean in, and kiss her cheek.
“I really did love you,” I say. “Please don’t ever think I didn’t. And I will always care about you. But when Pops died, everything changed. It’s
like everything spiraled out of control, and it’s all just too much.”
Tears spill over her eyes and slide down her face. She bites her lips, trying to hold them back.
“I’m so sorry, Ava. I’m really just so sorry.”
I’m halfway to my feet when she catches my hand. Part of me wants to walk away, to melt into the darkness where I belong. But instead, I allow her to pull me back down, despite the reality that I no longer belong by her side.
I’m not sure why I didn’t just let him walk away. I meant what I said—he can’t be my hero anymore. But I can’t pretend he isn’t exactly who I need right now.
His hand—so much larger than my own—still feels so right in mine, his warmth pressing into my cold fingers.
The sun has dipped behind the mountains, causing the temperature to drop. The sky, which earlier was a dingy gray, is now a sea of pinks and blues, proof that even the darkest things can turn beautiful. It should inspire some sort of deep, philosophical reaction in me, but it doesn’t.
My gaze finds Darien and I see the pain in his eyes. I know losing Pops has been the hardest thing he’s ever faced, but there’s more to it than that. Maybe I’m a fool, but I believe he loved me and that hurting me is breaking him. I just don’t get why he’s pushing me away.
But he’s still the Darien I’ve known my whole life. The one who saw me break into pieces when my mom left us. The one who held me until I could finally fall asleep. Who bought me a stack of plates at the dollar store to throw against a brick wall when I couldn’t find a way to release the anger that raged inside me.
“Will you read it to me?” I ask.
With a held breath, he nods. “Of course.”
I pull my hand away and feel his warmth leave me. Touching him feels too right. Then I give him the crinkled envelope.
He stares at me like maybe I’ll change my mind, but when I don’t say anything, he carefully tears it open and pulls out the letter.
My heart thumps in my chest and I can’t breathe.
As he unfolds it, I second-guess myself. Maybe I should burn the damn thing. She doesn’t deserve to send me a letter out of nowhere and turn my world upside down. Then again, after everything with Darien falling apart, I’m not sure I know up from down anymore anyway.
“You sure?” Darien asks.
I gulp. If I survived her leaving us the first time, surely I can survive this listening to this letter. “Yes.”
He looks down and begins. “My beautiful Ava. I’ve wanted to write you for quite some time now, but every time I sit down with a pen in my hand, words escape me. How do I express to you how sorry I am? I’ve written a million excuses, but nothing changes the fact that I failed you.” Darien peers up to see the tears dripping down my cheeks.
His lips press together in a frown. He’s always hated seeing me upset.
I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. Mom doesn’t deserve my tears. But the anger and sadness inside me are too much to hold in, and I can’t stop myself.
“Keep going.”
He listens. “There is no way for me to undo what has been done, but I want to do everything I can to make it up to you. I’ve been sober for ninety days now. I promised myself I wouldn’t send you this letter until I’d made it to my first of many goals. I know this doesn’t fix any of the pain I’ve caused you, but you mean so much more to me than the pills and I’m going to do everything in my power to prove to you I can be the mother you deserve again.”
A sob escapes my lips. I use the back of my hand to wipe the tears, fresh and warm, from my face.
Darien scoots toward me and grabs my hand again before continuing. “I’ve been in a rehab program in Portland and now am out and staying with a friend while I find a job. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I want to meet with you. Things can’t be fixed overnight, but even seeing you would bring me more joy than I’ve felt in a very long time. If you would like this too, please write me back. I will take a bus to Seattle and we can get lunch. If not, I understand. I love you so, so much. Love, Mom.”
I swallow the rest of my tears.
Darien hands me the letter and pulls me into a hug. My head rests on his chest, as his embrace covers me like a blanket.
This time, I let him hold me as I cry.
When my head hurts and there are no more tears to shed, I pull back.
With his thumbs, Darien wipes my cheeks. “I’m so sorry. You deserve people in your life who will treat you right.”
I sniff. “But the ones I care most about seem to be the ones to disappoint me.”
The sting of my words darkens his expression. Maybe it was a low blow, but it’s the truth. I pull his jacket from my shoulders and hand it to him. “I know things have been hard on you, and I’m so sorry you’ve lost your pops, but I wanted to be the one you needed in your darkest time like you are for me.”
He opens his mouth to say something then clamps it shut.
“But if I’m not that person to you, then I get it. You’ll always be my first love and I’ll never regret us.” My eyes water, but I contain the tears as I turn from him and head home.
10
I’ve never been able to stand Ava’s tears. Ever since we were in first grade, there’s always just been something about her, something about those big eyes filled with moisture that rips me apart from the inside. Or maybe it’s just the fact that she is such a kind, free-spirited person, who works hard to do the right thing and treat people nicely.
I remember back in second grade, the class bully, Billy Taylor, was picking on Claire because her skin was darker than her mother’s. Ava marched her little butt right up to him and told him he was being mean and should be ashamed of himself. He pushed her down right there on the blacktop, making her skin her knee. Tuck and I went to see if she was okay and helped her up. But the minute we saw that she was bleeding, we both went after him— Claire jumped in, too—and made sure he never bothered her again.
It was the blood and tears that did it, made worse by the fact that the little punk had wanted to hurt her. The thought of someone causing Ava pain makes me want to want to hurt that person. And right now, that person is me. Ava’s hurting and I’m the reason. I hate myself for it.
I try to shake off the thoughts of self-loathing, but it’s like poison swimming through my veins. I should just leave. I should run away and never come back. Would the Guardians find me? Or would they just let me go?
Without stopping to think about what I’m doing, I pass Gran’s house and head down the street toward Tuck’s. I can see his house, and I’m almost to his driveway when the air grows cold and dense around me. When the odor hits my nostrils, I stop dead in my tracks and close my eyes, willing them away. But this isn’t my imagination. This isn’t a bad dream, even though I feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare. Suddenly, the hair rises on my arms, and I am overwhelmed by the feeling that something or someone is standing right behind me.
I spin on my heel and come face-to-face with it.
Its face is scaly like that of a reptile, though its eyes are endless, empty pits. It pulls back its lips to reveal a row of razor-sharp teeth that smell of decay and drip yellow saliva. I know there’s something I’m supposed to do, some ability I’m supposed to have, but if Pops passed it on, I’ve got one hell of a learning curve.
Because all I can do is stand there, gaping at it, as I try not to piss myself. That’s when I realize it’s not alone. The creatures are coming from every direction, surrounding me, hissing and growling. They extend their bony, reptilian fingers that sharpen to razor claws and reach for me, as if they want to grab me but can’t.
I can feel myself stepping backward until I stumble over the curb of the sidewalk, landing hard on my hands and knees. Headlights blind me. A horn blares in my ear, the car’s tires squealing against the pavement as it swerves away from me.
Cold, harsh truth washes over me. My heart pounds with it.
Those bastards tried to get me killed. They all ganged up on me in the
hopes of watching that car turn me into roadkill.
That’s when I realize what I’m up against. They tried to hurt me. I’m an obstacle, one they tried to eliminate. And it really pisses me off.
I scramble to my feet, standing tall. I face them and walk forward, pushing away my doubt and my fear. When they realize I won’t give them what they want, they try to rush the other way, but I reach out …
I go after the creature closest to me as the others hiss and scream. My fingers wrap around its wrist. It hisses before wailing out in pure fear. The world around me disappears. The air grows heavy and heats until I’m sweating, despite the cool October air. Suddenly, I’m surrounded by fire, though somehow, it doesn’t burn me. I’m in some sort of dark, fiery pit, like a cave or a dungeon.
Why the hell am I here? What the hell is going on? Can I get home?
Fear consumes me. The demon begins to laugh. It struggles against me, pulling against my grip. Ashes float down from above and burn my skin. Suddenly, a searing pain shoots through my hand and I let go. The demon streaks away, far out of my reach, but I’m too worried about my hand to chase it down.
The fiery world disappears, returning to the sounds of night time, the cool fall air crisp against my bare arms. I’m sitting on the sidewalk near Tuck’s house, right where I’d been when I felt the demons approach. My hand stings. When I look down, my palm is bright red and bubbled up with blisters, like I’ve purposely closed my fist around something hot.
Was that me? Was it my first lame attempt at dragging these creatures back to hell? Was that hell? The tormented wailing I’d heard echoes through my mind, as I recall the rotting smell, the heat, the fire.
Before I realize what’s happening, I’m trembling. My pulse shoots forward, my heart is pounding, and I can’t catch my breath. My chest aches, and my arms feel as light as my head. I grip my knees rocking back and forth, trying to slow my breaths, but everything just speeds up even more.
Unable to support myself, I fall over on my side and curl into a fetal position.